


Married to the Magic

by Crysania



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysania/pseuds/Crysania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from <a href="http://repeatinglitanies.tumblr.com/">repeatinglitanies</a>: Belle and Rumpel unknowingly consume a magical nectar in front of two witnesses (Gepetto’s puppet parents), effectively making them married in the eyes of magic. Now they can’t be more than ten feet away from each other until the marriage is consummated. (Same prompt, new story!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Married to the Magic

For once Belle had the tea ready and served before Rumplestiltskin had even made his appearance. She had been at his castle now for well over a month and ever since he had given her the library, had shared his thousands of books with her, she had gotten caught up in one more often than not and found herself running behind. Once or twice Rumplestiltskin had had to come looking for her. She was always surprised at how indulgent he seemed in those moments, his sharp words countered by a grin playing about his lips and a certain glint in his eyes she had come to recognize as the playful side he tried so very hard to hide from the world. She supposed it wouldn’t bode well for him if people knew the Dark One could be quite so amusing. But Belle lived with him day in and day out. She got to see sides of him she was sure no one else did.

So she was incredibly surprised when _he_ was the one late to tea. But instead of worrying too much, she retrieved their cups, his _always_ the one she chipped on her first morning with him. She poured the tea, added the exact amount of cream he liked (and he had given her hell on that one… _No too much! Not enough! Pay attention dearie!_ ), and pulled out the sugar bowl. She had been surprised to see a new container for the sugar that morning. She hadn’t broken the last one (though she wondered if _he_ did as he was wont to throwing things when he got angry) and so the appearance of this new one was unexpected. It didn’t match the set the teapot and cups came from. Instead of white with blue flowers, it was a deep purple shot through with veins of silver and gold. It was lovely. But she had never seen anything matching it in the castle.

She had just finished spooning the sugar into their tea when Rumplestiltskin appeared. “Well, it’s about time, _dearie_ ,” Belle drawled, her voice a pretty good imitation of his usual semi-nasal sneer.

He stopped in his tracks and stared at her for a moment, his large eyes wide. And then his dumbfounded expression melted into one of utter glee. He clapped his hands together and giggled. “So it is, dearie, so it is. I apologize for being late. I’m sure I just got caught up in my book _again_. Would you like to hear about how the handsome prince rescued the sweet maiden?” He pressed the back of one hand to his forehead and pretended to swoon.

“I do _not_ sound like that.” Belle shook her head at him. “And besides, you should know by now I have no interest in the handsome prince.”

Rumplestiltskin walked closer to her, leaned in and wagged one finger in her face as he spoke. “Oh no, dear. It’s the monsters you seem to like best. Such an odd girl.” The last was murmured as he started to turn away.

Belle reached up and grasped his hand in hers, something that always seemed to stop him in his tracks. “Always the monster. It’s unfortunate that something like that makes me odd. No one seems to appreciate the monsters.”

Their eyes met and he leaned back to blindly feel for his teacup. With a smile, they both brought the cups to their lips and took a sip.

Belle grimaced. The tea tasted almost sour. Had the milk gone bad? That didn’t seem possible. Everything in Rumplestiltskin’s castle stayed fresh. As long as she kept it in the proper pantry, nothing ever spoiled. It was one of the many advantages to living with a powerful sorcerer. But this tea tasted terrible and she _knew_ she had made it right.

“What on earth did you _do_ to it Belle?” Rumplestiltskin asked as he set the cup none too gently on the table.

She shook her head. She had damned near perfected his tea in the time she'd been living at the Dark Castle. “I’ll just…I’ll get some more. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.” She poured his tea back into the pot, followed by hers, and then gathered up the tray with teapot, creamer, and sugar atop it. Rushing away she had gotten no more than a handful of steps when her stomach roiled. _Oh God_ …she moved fast, nearly running, when it felt like she had slammed into a wall. Her stomach clenched and she doubled over with a gasp. The tray crashed to the ground as she dropped heavily to her knees.

Rumplestiltskin was at her side almost immediately. As soon as she felt his presence, the pain in her stomach eased just a bit. When he bent low and picked her up, the pain completely disappeared. He deposited her in one of the chairs by the fire and sunk down to his knees in front of her.

Taking a deep breath, she finally managed to pry her eyes open and meet his. “What happened?” Her voice was barely above a whisper. The clenching in her gut had ended, but she still felt phantom pains, the muscles overly tight.

There was just a small crease of pain around Rumplestiltskin’s eyes as he answered. “I don’t know.” He looked away from her after he spoke the words.

Belle reached out and dared to grab his face and turn it back up toward hers. It was strange having him below her like this. She was used to looking him straight in the eye, whether sitting or standing, and seeing the Dark One kneeling at her feet almost like a servant (she refused to think on the alternative) was unusual to say the least. “You felt it too, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “I don’t think it was the tea.” He sounded morose. “I felt instantly better as soon as we moved closer…”

“And the pain…it lessened when you touched me.”

Another nod.

Belle dropped her hands from his face and stood. He leapt up with her. “What are you doing?”

She held up a hand. “Stay. Don’t move.” And walked a few feet away. “How do you feel?”

He ran his hands down his chest and continued down to his hips. “Fine. Do you want to see how I feel?” He arched one eyebrow at her and Belle just shook her head in amusement.

“Well, obviously you’re fine. I feel fine too.” She stepped a few more feet away and he nodded. Still nothing. It wasn’t until she got about eight or nine feet away from him that she felt a strange tugging down in her stomach. “There. Did you feel it?” She whirled to face him.

“Yes.”

“It almost felt like a warning. Go no further or face the consequences.” He nodded again and she started to step away.

He rushed to her instantly and grabbed her about the waist, hauling her backward and almost catching her as she lost her balance from his sudden movement. “Don’t.”

“We have to know.” She knew that _he_ knew she was right. She didn’t know what strange magic this might be, but testing the limits first seemed to be in their best interest. He released her and she walked away, first feeling that tugging warning, then a little stronger one and finally, after she had stepped some ten feet away from him, the pain that doubled her over.

She watched him this time, saw the telltale flinch along his features that indicated he felt the same raw feeling somewhere inside him. It didn’t seem to affect him as greatly, for he was still on his feet and able to move toward her. Both, however, breathed easier when their grasping hands touched.

“Well, bugger,” he muttered.

“That’s all you have to say to this? It seems I cannot move more than ten feet away from you without severe pain. And all you can say is ‘well bugger’?”

“Need I remind you this started with your _tea_?” His voice was pitched dangerously low.

“The tea!” Belle shouted and wrapping her hand around his wrist, dragged him over to the dropped tea set. The pot was broken, the tea spilled out over the tray and the floor. They both bent low over it and stared at the liquid as it soaked into the rug. Rumplestiltskin dipped his hand in some of the tea that remained on the tray and brought it to his nose, sniffing deeply.

“It smells normal.” He sounded surprised.

“It tasted horrible, however,” she pointed out.

“It did. And that is most unusual. At least, it is for the past few weeks.” She fought the urge to elbow him in the ribs. He leaned over a bit further and Belle found herself once again amazed at the man’s grace. No one ever mentioned that about the Dark One. He had an incredible ability to balance in awkward positions and moved with a sort of cat-like grace that often mesmerized her. He was lithe and compact and easily one of the most graceful men she’d ever seen. “What is that?” One long finger pointed at the sugar bowl.

Belle gave him a quizzical look. “It’s a sugar bowl.” She felt pretty stupid saying it.

“What? No. The sugar bowl matched the tea set. I’ve never seen that before.” He picked it up and turned it around in his hands. They both watched at the way the light bounced off the gold and silver, the way the color seemed to change from a deep blue to a violet to fuchsia.

“What is it then?”

He opened the top and brought it up to his nose to sniff, immediately pulling away and wrinkling his nose. “Well, it’s not sugar, but it’s definitely what gave our tea that awful taste.”

“Oh, well, that’s good then…isn’t it?”

He waved one hand over the small pot and she was surprised to see it start to glow blue around the edges. Belle’s eyes shot to his. “No,” he said. “Definitely not good. It has magical properties. _Fairy_ magic.” He sneered as he said the last words.

Belle's eyes widened. Fairy magic? She had heard him rail against the fairies on numerous occasions since coming to live with him. It was one of his favorite evening discourses.

"Where did you find it?" His eyes were narrowed when he met hers.

"It was with the teapot, in the same place the sugar bowl always was. I assumed you'd had it replaced for some reason." She shrugged.

"Do I ever do anything for no reason?" His words were laced with ire.

"I thought you might have broken it."

"Oh really? I thought that _breaking_ things was more _your_ thing than mine, dearie."

Belle's lips puckered just slightly and her brow lowered. "Don't you 'dearie' _me_. Maybe instead of getting mad at _me_ you should figure out where it _did_ come from." She stood and turned on her heel, beginning to flounce away. When Rumplestiltskin got into one of _those_ moods it was best for her to be nowhere near him.

He rushed after her, grabbing her arm and spinning her around. Tugging hard, he pulled her back toward him. She tripped as she tried to regain her footing. Of course she tripped. She _always_ tripped. It wasn't exactly that Belle was clumsy, it was more that Rumplestiltskin consistently caught her off her guard and left her feeling somewhat unbalanced. This time was perhaps a bit _more_ than usual. Instead of simply steadying her, as he had in the past, he pulled her tight up against him. Had she been shorter or he taller, her head would have collided with his chest, but as it was, she found herself in a near embrace with him, head over his shoulder, his lips near her ear. She could feel his breath ghost across her neck.

"Did you forget something?" The words were spoken softly, dangerously, into her ear, the feeling of his breath touching her neck causing her to shiver.

Of course. She couldn't walk away in anger as she was wont to do. Not _this_ time. "What are we going to do?" Belle slumped against him for a moment before disentangling herself from him and backing away slightly.

“ _You_ are not going to do anything,” he muttered. “Come,” he said and held out his hand to her. She placed her hand in his, unsure of what he had planned. But all he did was lead her over to his spinning wheel. With a wave of his hand, he produced a stool for her and indicated that she should sit. He took his place at the wheel.

“You’re just going to spin?” Her voice was laced with all the incredulity she felt. He gave her a look and Belle fell silent, crossing her arms over her chest and watching as he began.

She had always enjoyed watching him at the wheel. The way the creases that were always between his eyes smoothed out, how he seemed to relax into the motion, the gentle way he almost seemed to caress the wheel. She had never been quite able to figure out when the straw turned into gold exactly, but it was enjoyable to try to discern that moment.

It took little time for him to spin a long string of gold. He jumped up, bouncing lightly to his feet as he detached the gold and, with a flick of his wrist, sent it spinning into the air. Belle watched as his hands danced and the string went with it, one side reaching out to wrap around one of his narrow wrists. The other half snaked out, slowly, weaving strange patterns in the air. His soft giggle accompanied it, the same tittering noise he made whenever he worked his magic. Sometimes she wondered if he was even aware of it. Oh, she knew it was an affectation more often than not, but the pleased quiet titter that accompanied his magic seemed entirely unconscious.

The magical golden thread finally came toward her and wound around her wrist. As soon as it did, the two ends drew taut and the thread disappeared in a shimmer of sparks. One of Belle’s hands came up to her mouth, her eyes wide. “What have you done, Rumplestiltskin?”

He sighed and half rolled his eyes. “Nothing so serious as that, my dear. This thread, invisible and formless though it may be, will keep us within the boundaries of this…well…whatever this is. Go ahead. Try it.”

She gave him a skeptical look but stepped away, walking purposely further away from him. She was just starting to feel that strange tugging sensation when she was drawn up short, almost as if Rumplestiltskin had put his hands on her shoulders and drawn her back himself. She turned to face him and he gave a small flourish with his hands. “There. We should at least be somewhat safe now.”

She nodded.

Rumplestiltskin turned and walked away. Belle quickly jumped to follow. “And what are we doing?”

He turned as he walked, clearly expecting her to keep up. “ _You_ are going to find a book to read. _I_ am going to start doing some research.” He stopped in his tracks and turned fully to her. “We’re going to have to spend some time in my tower room, amongst my books and potions. Please touch _nothing_ or else we may have a bigger problem on her our hands than this.” He waved one hand around and then walked off.

Belle followed, feeling somewhat defeated.  


* * *

  
Rumplestiltskin had been poring over his books for nearly two hours and Belle was getting bored. She had long since abandoned her book, which she found she couldn’t concentrate on, and instead spent her time watching him at work. She had never set foot in the tower room. He felt it was too dangerous and so even when he was out, he had the room blocked off with magic. The door simply wouldn’t open for her and Belle had never tried to get in. She really had no reason, after all, for not believing him when he warned her of the dangers of touching potion bottles and breathing in the dust leftover from previous experiments.

Glancing around the room, she could see why he kept her out of here. There were potion bottles everywhere. A rack stood near where he was, most spots filled with some glowing potion or another. The shelves were covered in jars of various pastes and powders, jars containing things she didn't want to look too closely at, the bookshelves were stuffed full of books of the arcane. She could well imagine that to someone such as herself, someone with no magic and little knowledge of it, this place was full of untold dangers.

"What are you doing?"

She was surprised to hear his voice after so much silence and realized that she had been staring at him. Blushing, she averted her eyes. "I can't concentrate on my book."

"I see that," he said with a slight smirk.

She rolled her eyes. "Can't I do _anything_ to help?"

He watched her for a moment and finally sighed. "Do you read the old language, dear?"

Belle sat up a little straighter. "I do." It had been ages since she'd seen a book in the old language, but she had always enjoyed deciphering the strange script, the oddly worded sentences. She had been the bane of her governess, always studying things she felt should have been beyond the ken of a young girl.

"Good," he said, nodding. "Good then." He rose from where he was perched on his stool and walked over to his bookcases. He touched a few books lightly, ran his finger back and forth and finally, delicately, drew a large tome out of the chaos.

Belle rose and came to stand at his side, taking the book from him when he held it out to her. The title was written in embossed letters on leather, no decoration. "Fairy magic?" Belle said.

He nodded. "Where ever this came from, it originated with the fairies." The words were serious, but the last bit came out on a sneer.

"What are we looking for?"

He shook his head. "I don't really know yet. Look for any references to a spell, a potion, a curse even, that ties two people together in such a way. Beyond that, I'm not sure. If it seems suspicious, mark it."

Belle settled back into her chair with the book and a handful of straw to mark pages. Finally, she could be useful. She found it much easier to concentrate when she was looking for something specific and not just being tied to the tower room because of the situation they found themselves in.

 

 

* * *

It was some eight hours later that the pair finally came up for air. Belle had managed to get through two thick tomes on fairy magic and was starting on a smaller one, when her stomach growled. The noise in a room that had previously been so quiet seemed inordinately loud. Rumplestiltskin's head shot up and he turned to look at her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, closing the book on another marker of straw she had pulled off the nearby floor. The other books had several pieces of straw poking out of them. She had found many things that referenced this situation in passing, but nothing that gave any specific details nor any way to _cure_ their situation.

"You're hungry." It wasn't a question.

"It's well past our noonday meal," Belle pointed out. Well, _her_ noonday meal at least. Rumplestiltskin joined her for it on occasion, generally sipping at his tea and eating little. She often wondered if he simply lived on magic or if he had the magic provide him with food while he was working. She suspected it was more the latter than the former, as he always insisted on a light breakfast, often joined her for tea in the afternoons, and joined her promptly at 7:00pm every evening for dinner. He didn’t eat _much_ but it seemed he _did_ eat.

“Well, this seems to be as good a time to take a break as any.” He closed his own book and stood. “Come.” He walked over to her and offered a hand. Belle stood slowly, her muscles cramping after sitting in one position so long. He dropped her hand as soon as she had steadied herself and turned, walking away, the fingers of that same hand still making strange patterns in the air. He was always so dreadfully awkward when he tried to play the gallant, as if he had somehow forgotten how to be human sometime along the line.

Belle followed, always trying to keep in mind that she couldn’t get too far from him. The trip down the stairs was a little worrisome, as she feared she couldn’t keep up with the quick pace he set. But she made it.

“You’ll need to join me in the kitchen,” Belle pointed out as they entered the Great Hall. At that point she took the lead and he followed. He took a seat at the small table there and Belle realized how odd it was for him to be there in the kitchen, a place that had become her domain of sorts. She had known next to nothing about cooking when she arrived and her first efforts had been abysmal at best. After finding various books showing up on the table, something Rumplestiltskin swore was not his doing even though his smirk belied that fact, she had not only gotten better at it, but also found she enjoyed it. It was soothing. Seeing him here was rather disconcerting.

Belle pulled a loaf of crusty bread out of the breadbox and returned to the table with knife and cutting board in hand. Rumplestiltskin watched her carefully as she sliced the bread and leaned back when she was done. “I thought you would cut yourself,” he explained it away as, wrinkling his nose at her.

She just rolled her eyes and stepped away to retrieve jam from the cold pantry. She got as far as the door to it when she felt that weird tugging and with one more step away, she gasped, her breath rushing out quickly as she found herself back on her knees. Rumplestiltskin was instantly at her side, squatting down near her.

“What? What’s wrong?” 

“You felt it too, didn’t you? You had to have.”

“It’s not possible,” he muttered, glancing down at his wrist. “The thread…”

“Seems to have failed.”

He leapt to his feet. “Stand, dear.” She did as he asked and he stepped away a few feet. “Tell me when you feel that weird tug.”

She nodded. He stepped a few more feet away. Then another foot. “There,” she said, placing one hand over her stomach.

He gave her an entirely unreadable look and a waved one hand. The golden thread reappeared. She could feel the weight of it around her left wrist now that she could see it again. The thread hung loosely dipping down in a slight arc before turning upward again to where it connected to his wrist.

She met his eyes. “It’s shrinking?” she asked.

“It appears so.” His voice was grave.

“What does this mean?” She could feel the panic beginning to rise inside her.

“It’s been about eight hours since this happened? It means we have approximately 12 to 16 hours before you can’t use the chamber pot without my being in the same room. And less than a day until we can’t survive without actually being in physical contact.”

She could feel her stomach begin to turn sour. “Suddenly I’m not very hungry.”

 

 

* * *

Despite the condition of her stomach, Rumplestiltskin made her eat, telling her that she would be no help if she fainted from hunger. She knew he was right, but it still took a lot to choke down the bread and jam.

He arranged it so that the invisible thread tightened over time so she never had to experience the crippling pain being too far away from him caused. She was thankful for that kindness at least. As they settled back down to work with renewed determination she wondered what his opinion on all of this was, really. He was so unreadable at times, his eyes flat mirrors that reflected her image back at herself instead of being any sort of window to his soul. She would well imagine his telling her that was because he _had_ no soul, but she didn't believe that for a moment. In this instance he seemed to alternate between watching her with extreme worry and consternation and being slightly annoyed that this was happening. She couldn't say she blamed him really. She had heard enough of his railing against the fairies to know that this was a bit of a blow to him.

Of course, she couldn’t pretend to know what his issue with the fairies really _was_ , as he was rather tight-lipped on that. But she did know that even her own father had bypassed the fairies in favor of dealing with someone many considered little better than a demon. That alone should tell her something, even if she wasn’t quite sure what that something happened to be.

Blocking those questions from her mind, Belle dove into her new task. They now had a new piece of the puzzle that could help narrow their search. She quickly checked all of her straw bookmarks and discarded each and every one of them with a frown. Not one mentioned the bubble of space surrounding the pair as getting increasingly smaller.

So that left her to the new pile of books Rumplestiltskin had gleefully left at her side when they had reentered the tower room. These were no longer in the old language and so easier to get through. As much as Belle enjoyed perusing those in the old language, she was thankful that she could work faster now.

She was just settling down with her fourth book, when Rumplestiltskin made a noise. Her head shot up and her eyes focused on him after a moment of readjustment. “What?” she said. He didn’t respond to her question, but she could see the way he was studying the page he was staring at, the slight crinkle in his brow, the creases around his eyes. “You found something didn’t you?”

"I did." The words were grave. She had expected his finding something would make him giddy. The quiet words put dread in her heart. She stood and walked closer to him, not quite getting within his reach.

"And…?" It wasn't like him to be quiet, at least not when it came to something magical. He was usually overjoyed, irritated, incensed, sometimes even almost malicious about it. But now he was standing there, staring at the page in the book he had stopped at, almost emotionless in his gaze.

His brow creased slightly as he finally looked up and met her eyes. He crooked one long finger at her and as she came closer, pointed at one particular passage in the book. Belle stepped right next to him in order to read the rather tiny print in the book.

The words she read weren't exactly what she expected. She wasn't really sure _what_ she expected. But not this. "Curse of the Unwilling Bride?" She looked back at him and he nodded, his mouth set in a grim line.

_When the potion is drunk in front of two witnesses by two individuals at the same time, the curse is enacted. Magic binds them together in a union more strict than simple matrimony. The couple cannot stray more than ten feet from each other without dire consequences. The distance decreases approximately two feet for every eight hours after the potion has been drunk._

Her eyes narrowed as she continued to read, her mouth turning downward, the grim line mirroring that on Rumplestiltskin's face.

_The curse, like all curses, can be broken, but not through true love's kiss. The curse will come to an end when the couple in question has consummated their marriage._

"Oh," Belle said. She knew that probably made her sound stupid, but what _did_ someone say to that really?

"Exactly."

For a moment, the pair stared at each other. "But this makes no sense," Belle finally blurted out. "There were no witnesses."

His eyes slid away from hers and his shoulders slumped slightly as he placed both hands on the table. "There were…"

"Oh…oh no…you can't mean…" She remembered the time she attempted to dust the puppets he kept on display in the main room. She had never felt comfortable around them, had avoided going near them for the first few weeks she was there. When she finally worked up the nerve to dust them he had rushed after her and pulled her away. _Don't touch them…_ She had been confused, but was happy enough to let _him_ dust those puppets. They horrified her and always left her unsettled. "They were people."

"Still are, dear," he muttered.

"Can't you transform them back?"

He looked up at her. "Ah, my dear Belle. Always more concerned about someone else's plight than her own. Alas no, I cannot turn them back." He sounded almost sad at that but Belle was too worried to ask why.

She returned to the couch she had spent much of the day on. For a moment both were silent, his hands still gripping the table tight, head down-turned so that his curling hair hid any expression Belle might see there, she with her knees drawn up tight to her chest and her head resting on them, continuing to watch Rumplestiltskin.

"Why would the fairies _do_ that to a woman?" Belle had only ever heard good things about the fairies. They were all lightness, representatives of the good in the world. Wish upon a star and the fairies would grant your wish if you were pure of heart. But here was a potion…no, a _curse_ …that was intended to rob a woman of her ability to take her fate into her own hands.

"There are many things you don't know about the fairies, Belle. They are…not all you think they are. For them, consummation of a marriage, especially for a house devoted to the fairies, is of the utmost importance." His voice was quiet, but she could hear the rage seething just beneath the surface.

"And so I have become your unwilling bride." The words were resigned. _Consummation_ …she could hardly wrap her mind around it. Once she was to be Gaston's unwilling bride. Now, by a quirk of fate, it appeared she was Rumplestiltskin's.

"And I your unwilling groom," he responded with and the words sounded as unhappy and dismayed as her own.

For a time the two remained in silence, unmoving, lost in their own worried thoughts. Belle tried to imagine what Rumplestiltskin might be feeling. He was so hard to read, and more so when his shoulders were slightly slumped over, his face turned away from her. The lines of his body spoke volumes though. He seemed...defeated. Something she had never imagined she would see from the often gleeful, often angry man. Rumplestiltskin was _never_ defeated.

“I didn’t intend for this to happen.” His voice was quiet and he didn’t so much as turn his head to look at her.

“I didn’t think you did.”

“I didn’t bring you here for this.” He finally turned to look at her. “I didn’t.” The words were firm.

“Everyone thought you did,” she said quietly.

His mouth turned up in a small quirk of a smile. “Did they now?”

“Your rather large _estate_? Yes. They did. _I_ did.” His eyebrows rose slightly. “I spent the first two weeks almost without sleep…”

His smile turned a little sad, but he said nothing further.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Belle had been sitting on that same couch for what felt like hours. The sun had long since gone down and Rumplestiltskin had lit candles and torches all around the room. Their flickering created plenty of light to see by, but also cast some rather unsettling shadows.

After their revelation late in the afternoon he had set to feverish work reading books, brewing potions, and mixing up powders. He swore he would find some way out of their predicament that didn’t either end in giving the curse what it wanted or her death, which he fully admitted was possible.

Belle had done little other than fret. She tried to go back to reading, admitting that this part of things she could have nothing to do with, but had been unable to concentrate. Her mind roved from one possibility to another until she finally curled up into an awkward position on the small couch and fell into a fitful sleep.

She couldn’t say for sure what time it was when she woke to Rumplestiltskin crouched in front of her. He said her name quietly and her eyes opened, blearily trying to focus on him as his image swam in front of her. “You need sleep.”

“I’ve been sleeping,” she said, sitting up and using one hand to massage her neck.

“Hardly,” he said, a sarcastic bent to his voice. “I’ve been watching you toss and turn for over an hour. I can’t concentrate with all this… _motion_.” He twirled one hand lazily in the air.

She took a close look at him. “You need sleep too.”

He did no more than incline his head in response.

“Have you had any luck?” She didn’t mean the words to sound quite so worried as they did. She had tried to keep her rising panic in check. Rumplestiltskin was many things, but one thing she had begun to realize was that his confidence was often a front. When she watched him when he wasn’t looking, when he wasn’t putting on a show, he was softer, quieter, often so drawn into himself that she was sure he hid any insecurities behind bravado. She didn’t want him to think her panic over all of this was because it was _him_. She tried not to focus too hard on why that was so important to her.

“Alas, no. And I need at least a little rest if I’m going to continue at this pace. We have little time left.” He stood, offering her a hand. “Come.”

She put her hand in his and allowed him to draw her rather clumsily to her feet. For a moment they stood staring at each other, looks inscrutable. He finally turned and walked off, admonishing her to keep close behind if she didn’t want to experience the effects of the curse they were under. She could well imagine that their invisible tether had shortened at least another couple feet by this point.

When they arrived at her bedroom and he followed her in, she was surprised for a moment. It felt strange having him in her domain. He had given her the room soon after she arrived, presenting it with little ceremony and telling her she'd get no work done if she froze to death in the dungeon. It had taken her some time but she realized those sorts of things, often said on a sneer with his eyes sliding away from hers, were a cover-up, an inability to admit he did nice things. _The Dark One doesn't do nice, dearie_ …He had spit the words at her once, right before she returned to her room and found several new blankets and an old quilt covering her bed. The Dark One _did_ do nice. But she was sure many had no idea and he preferred to keep it that way. Well, his secret was safe with her.

"I'll just…let you get ready for bed then?" He was so terribly uncertain in this situation and Belle had to admit she found it all so amusingly endearing. He turned away from her, staring unmoving into the fire that she knew magic kept constantly burning and she quickly divested herself of the work dress she had put on that morning, slipping into one of her nightgowns.

Sliding under the covers, she pulled them nearly up to her chin before speaking again. "I'm all set." He turned quickly and froze when he spied her under the covers.

Nodding after a few moments, he moved to one of the chairs in the room, and leaned back.

Belle sat up. "What are you doing?"

"Sleeping? Or at least attempting to if you'd let me."

"You're in a chair," she said stupidly. He shook his head. "You can't sleep in a chair." She crawled out of the bed and plucked a blanket off of it, wrapping herself in its protectiveness. She couldn't really say why she felt so utterly exposed when her nightwear left little on display and yet still she did. "I'll take the chair. You need your rest to continue your work."

He stood as she approached. "That would not be the gallant thing to do," he pointed out.

"Since when do you worry about being gallant?" The words slipped out, harsher than she expected. She had meant to tease, but saw him flinch instead.

"Since _now_ ," he growled and she could tell he was trying to fight the exhaustion that this day had built up. She was fighting it too, her eyes feeling strangely pinched about the edges.

Sighing, she sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at him for a moment. "The bed is big enough for both of us. It might be safer anyway."

He conceded that point and moved slowly to stand over the bed. Belle scooted back under the covers and to the far side of the bed. "Are you sure?"

"Not totally," she admitted, biting her lower lip and looking away from him briefly. "But it's the only thing that makes sense."

"We _will_ be safer. _You_ will be safer." And she knew this to be true, for the effects of the potion were clearly not as great for him. She didn't relish the thought of her accidentally moving too far in the bed and waking up to that crippling pain.

Rumplestiltskin gingerly crawled into the bed, curling onto his side and turning away from her. Almost as soon as Belle's head came down onto the pillow, the candles around the room extinguished, leaving the only light the flickering of the fire.

"Rumplestiltskin?" She wasn't really sure what she intended to say, so instead just put one hand lightly on his shoulder. He tensed underneath her. "Goodnight," she finally said, quietly, and withdrew her hand, turning away from him to attempt to sleep.

"Goodnight, Belle," came his quiet reply and she felt strangely thrilled to hear her name come from him. As contented as she could be for the moment, she curled tight into the covers and shut her eyes.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Belle didn't know how long she had slept for, though she suspected it wasn't nearly as long as she would have liked. She wasn't sure what woke her up exactly for she was quite comfortable beneath the many blankets piled on the bed. They were warm and heavy on top of her, exactly as she liked it. Belle had always been the type to simply burrow beneath the covers. It was one of the things she actually liked about the Dark Castle. Situated high in the mountains, the area was cold and snow-covered for much of the year.

But something woke her up out of what was an amazingly sound sleep. It took a moment for her to realize there was something other than blankets draped over her. Sometime during the night she had apparently moved closer to the center of the bed. Rumplestiltskin had done the same and now he was pressed up against her, his head still on his own pillow, but one arm slung carelessly around her middle.

Belle shifted just slightly and while the motion didn't seem to wake him up, it did cause him to wrap himself even more tightly around her. His arm around her waist pulled her flush up against him and his head came to rest on her own pillow, breath tickling the nape of her neck.

She could _feel_ him, all of him, pressed up against her. All the hard planes of his body fit tightly against hers and despite all of the unsettling events of the past day, it was almost comforting to have him tucked in so close to her.

Laying there in the dark, Belle realized she had a decision to make. Rumplestiltskin had spent hours trying to find some way to "cure" them from the curse. At one point, he had stopped working and turned to look at her, eyes more serious than she had ever seen them. _I will find a way out of this Belle…I promise_. She never thought he was capable of sounding quite so human, all signs of the giggling maniacal Dark One gone from both face and voice.

But he hadn't found a way out. At least, not one that was the _only_ way they knew so far. Belle knew that Rumplestiltskin wasn't going to make that choice, that somehow all of this was up to her. He would keep trying to find a magical way around it but his lack of answers thus far made her less than enthusiastic about the prospects. By now they could no longer be more than six feet away and soon it would be four. Could he continue to work for another half a day with her standing so close at his side? Could he work if there were only two feet between them?

She knew that she often broke his concentration by walking past him while he was spinning. His hand would falter and the constant creaking of the wheel would halt for just a moment before picking up again. She had on occasion made a game of it, making sure she dusted something close by him while he was at the wheel, sometimes brushing up against his back as she passed by. He always seemed so startled by those brief moments of contact and Belle found she enjoyed keeping him slightly off-kilter. He had kept _her_ off-kilter ever since she arrived so it seemed only fair that she should do the same to him.

And now this situation, this _fairy magic_ caused situation, had left them both out of their element. _Consummation_ …the thought had been floating around in her head ever since they had discovered exactly what was affecting them. Could she do it? She was not immune to Rumplestiltskin's particular brand of charms. His strange quips and sometimes-morbid bits of humor had warmed her heart many times since coming to live with him. He cut a fine figure in his silks and leathers. She greatly admired his grace and his ability to outthink his opponents. They had sometimes taken to playing chess in the evening and she always enjoyed the surprising moves he made. She won on occasion and she was sure that he let her win those times, for he always seemed able to think several moves ahead of her. But he always made her _think_ and made her try new things and her game of chess, along with her ability to verbally spar with him, had greatly improved since coming to live with him.

It was strange, but she couldn't really imagine any place she'd _rather_ be than at the Dark Castle with him. Maybe exploring the world, but again, with _him_ , with Rumplestiltskin, with the Dark One.  It wasn't exactly that she needed bravery to be here. What she needed was wits and she had those in spades. Sometimes she was pretty sure Rumplestiltskin had found his match in her, mortal and magicless though she may be. There had been many times he had simply stopped and watched her, a look of appreciation, even contentedness, on his face.

So if she were to be completely honest with herself, the thought of giving into the magic did not repulse her. In fact, if she were really to delve _deep_ into her thoughts, she knew that it very well could be the excuse she had been looking for. Belle could feel her cheeks redden even though there was no one there to see her, no one to know the way her thoughts went. She was not repulsed by Rumplestiltskin. Quite the contrary, she found she was strangely attracted to him.

 _There_ …she had admitted it to herself. And with that admittance came a little bit of courage. She told him once that she thought doing the brave thing meant bravery would follow. It seemed she had to hope for that once again.

“Rumplestiltskin?” She heard him mutter something and, though she didn't think it possible, his arm tightened even more around her and his hand came to be splayed out across her stomach. Her breath rushed out on a gasp and she waited for him to do something else, but his breathing remained even. She spoke his name again, a little louder and it seemed to jar him out of his sleep finally.

For a moment he froze and then started to shift away. Without even thinking, she wrapped her hand over his arm and kept him close. But even so he managed to shift back slightly, putting a scant few inches of space between their bodies. When he whispered her name, it sounded hoarse and she wasn't sure if his voice was roughened from sleep or something else.

"You're not going to find a cure are you?" She voiced the words quietly, tentatively. She wasn't quite sure how to approach this subject without coming right out and saying it. _I think we should consummate this…whatever this is…_ He was so hesitant to touch her, skittering away if she so much as took a step or two toward him, freezing and staring at her wide-eyed if she touched him with any sort of affection. The time she had actually hugged him had resulted in her walking off, leaving him barely moving behind her and quiet for the entire carriage ride home. A simple _hug_. She often wondered when the last time someone had actually touched him had been.

"I don't know." The words were so quiet she almost didn't hear it, _wouldn't_ have heard it if his mouth weren't so close to her ear. Her arm tightened reflexively on his.

 _Do the brave thing, Belle_. "What if we gave the magic what it demands?" There she had said it. Not in so many words, but she knew _he_ would know what she meant.

"Are you asking what I think you're asking?" His voice was pitched oddly low and with very little emotion. She couldn't tell at all what he was thinking with those words. She released his arm and turned onto her back so she could try to discern something of what he was thinking or feeling. It was dark, but she could still see his eyes glowing in the firelight, the flickering of the light making him look like the demon some thought he was.

“Y…yes…I think I am…” The words faded out. How _did_ one go about asking for such a thing anyway? She searched his eyes for any sign of what he might be thinking, feeling. He remained silent, however, and Belle could discern nothing. “It’s the only way, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he grudgingly admitted.

“So then we must…”

He nodded, the curls of his hair falling forward as he raised himself up on one elbow and leaned slightly over her. “We must.” The words sounded pained. “I can erase the memory…the memory of _all_ of this…when it’s done…”

“What? No!” The cry was wrenched from her as her eyes widened in horror. “You will not remove this memory from me, Rumplesitltskin. _You will not_.”

His mouth was set in a grim line. “You would bed the monster and _remember it_?”

She reached one hand up and gently cupped one side of his face. “No. I will bed _you_ and remember it. No magic, Rumplestiltskin. I mean it. We may have no choice in _doing_ this, but I will not have you take the choice to remember it away from me.”

“No one decides your fate but you.” The corner of his mouth quirked upward for a moment

“Exactly.”

He sighed and the room suddenly plunged into complete and total darkness. Belle could still feel the heat from the fire, but she could see nothing.

Before she could even ask, Rumplestiltskin spoke. “You may not wish to forget, but the darkness…it will cloak some things you’d rather not see.”

Belle wanted to argue, oh did she ever want to argue with that one, but she decided to let it go. It would probably be easier not to broach that subject right now. She felt him shift slightly and could feel him leaning over her. His breath suddenly fanned out over her face and she looked up where she knew he was, where she could sense him despite the absolute darkness.

One of his hands came up and his thumb brushed across her lips. It was a strangely tender gesture and Belle was sure the hand that touched her had a slight tremor. But she had little time to think on that before he had replaced his thumb with his mouth. The kiss was soft, chaste. It wasn’t what she had expected once they decided to do this. He seemed hesitant, perhaps even more than she was.

He drew back. “I will make this good for you Belle, I promise.” He leaned forward again and rested his forehead against hers.

“Rumple?”

“Yes?” If he sounded surprised at the shortening of his name, it didn’t show in his voice.

“Hush.” And she put hands on both sides of his face and pulled him down to her to kiss him once more. This time the kiss was much less chaste. When their mouths met, his was slightly open, perhaps in surprise due to her actions. She smiled as their lips met and was almost startled when his tongue came out to press against the seam of her lips.

Her mouth opened of its own accord and he tilted his head just slightly, deepening the kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue. When he suckled at her lower lip and then bit down slightly Belle gasped.

He almost immediately stopped, drew back. “Did I hurt you?”

Belle smiled, wondering if he could see her in the dark with those strange eyes of his or if he was as blind as she was at that moment. “Do it again,” she whispered. With a slight cry he dove forward, his lips first missing hers and connecting with her cheek. Belle was laughing as he kissed her again.

Her arms came around him, holding him to her. The hand not holding himself up ran down along her side, leaving goose bumps in its wake. When his hand moved up to the ribbon at the top of her nightgown, he hesitated. It was strange, really. She knew she was the one with less experience here, but it seemed she was going to have to take the lead, giving him permission for each step of the way.

She reached up and undid the bow and then grasped his hand in hers, bringing it to the ribbon to let him finish the job. He hesitated for a moment before slowly drawing the string out and leaving her nightgown open at the top.

His hand came up and lightly brushed at the nape of her neck, tracing patterns across her skin as he dipped lower. She felt the bed shift and then his lips were at the edge of her jaw, pressing frantic open-mouthed kisses down her neck. Belle’s hands came up to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly on his curls. He gasped against her neck and her back arched of its own volition. She seemed to barely be in control of her own body anymore. In the darkness, all she had were sensations…sound, taste, touch. With all the visual removed, it seemed everything was simply _more_.

He plucked at the opening of her nightgown, baring one shoulder and his kisses continued down to her collarbone and across her shoulder. He bit down lightly there and when she moaned he suddenly gathered her close to him, burying his nose in her hair as he clutched tightly at her. “Oh Belle,” he whispered and the words were almost more felt than heard, so softly were they spoken.

She stroked his hair and turned her head toward his, pressing a slightly misaimed kiss on his cheek.

When he kissed her again, he was tender and yet insistent, his lips moving along hers, tongue and teeth causing her to gasp and moan into his mouth. He stroked down her side and brought the hand up to cup one of her breasts, thumb and forefinger plucking at her nipple through the nightgown. The sensation was intense, but not enough…never enough. She needed more. She needed the feel of his hand against her flushed skin and, knowing he likely could see no more than she could, reached down to grasp at the bottom of her nightgown.

She pulled it up over her thighs and was thrilled when she felt him still for a moment and his hand come to join hers. “Are you sure, Belle? Absolutely sure this is what you want?”

She nodded and realized, when she got no response, that he could not see her assent. “Yes,” she whispered, the word coming out on a sigh.

He pulled the nightgown up and over her head, her hands moving upward with the motion, and then tossed it off the side of the bed. Hovering above her, he reached down and caressed her stomach, lightly brushing his hands across the smooth delicate skin of her belly before rising and cupping both breasts. She arched underneath him. Yes…this was what she needed. That intense contact, skin to skin. He was still clothed but his hands, his strange slightly calloused hands with their long nails, felt glorious on her skin.

And then he leaned forward, for she could feel his hair tickle her skin, and his lips encircled one hardened nipple, drawing it into his mouth. She froze, the sensation almost too much, and then her hands were back in his hair and she could hear her voice, begging, _pleading_ for more. She could feel his mouth turn up in a smile as he turned to nibbling lightly at the skin between her breasts before taking the nipple of her other breast into his mouth, suckling hard on it before releasing it with a slight pop.

Belle giggled, but it ended in a gasp and a low moan when his lips traced lower, teeth scraping across her ribs, lips and tongue leaving damp trails across her abdomen. She was so focused on where his mouth was that she didn’t notice his hand creeping up her thigh until he pressed slightly, a silent request to separate her legs a bit.

Suddenly shy, Belle resisted for a moment and he drew away from her. “Rumplestilskin?”

“I will not force my attentions on you,” came his rather sullen reply.

Belle smiled. She couldn’t help it and she was glad he couldn’t see her in the dark for fear he would misinterpret it. She leaned over, found him curled up on his side with his back to her, and put one hand on his shoulder.

“You are not forcing anything on me.” She laid down and wrapped herself tight to him, a mirror image of how she had found them this morning. One hand reached around his waist to lightly run her fingers over his stomach, rubbing the silk of the nightwear he had chosen against his skin. She felt the muscles bunch beneath her hand and felt the hitch in his breath. Could she be more daring? There were after all, advantages to such loose nightwear.

The shirt he wore hung down past his knees and so rather than shifting into an uncomfortable position, Belle simply drew it up higher, until she was able to reach the bare skin of his thigh. She had never quite imagined what his skin would feel like, except in those odd moments she wouldn’t admit to even herself in the light of day. She was surprised at how smooth it felt despite the appearance of roughness. He felt no less human than she.

She spread her hand out over his skin, feeling the contour, the lean muscles of his thigh that bunched beneath her questing hand. He made little movement that indicated he was even conscious of what she was doing, but the tautness of his muscles made her believe he was all too aware of it. When her hand moved higher, brushing against his hard length, he suddenly moved. One hand came to grip her wrist in his and then he was rolling her until he once again hovered over her.

He seemed crazed this time, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down her body, trailing teeth and tongue from breast to navel as his hand once again came up to separate her legs. This time she allowed him to, too absorbed in simply feeling his overwhelming presence to retain any of the shyness she had mere moments before.

His hand came up, teasing at her inner thighs, running lightly through the curls at her apex, before one finger swiped lightly through her folds. Gasping, she allowed her legs to separate further. He stroked her softly, lightly, small circles that didn’t quite reach the _need_ she had. It was like having that itch, the one in the middle of your back that you just couldn’t reach. His hand always came close, _so close_ , but never quite hit the exact spot she was simply _craving_ for him to hit.

His finger continued to toy with her as his head lowered. She felt him first across her abdomen, pressing frantic wet kisses there and then he was nuzzling at her curls. She could feel his breath fan out across her, an intimate rush of air she never quite expected to feel. “What are you doing?” This wasn’t anything she had ever imagined in her occasional nighttime meanderings into the workings of sex.

Instead of answering her, Rumplestiltskin blew lightly across her, the cool air hitting her hot, wet flesh causing goose bumps to cover nearly her whole body. And then he brought his mouth to her, swiping his tongue across her flesh, and she simply forgot to think. No, it was more than that. She _couldn’t_ think. He ran his tongue across her slick folds, parting them and near-lapping at the juices.

She reached down and tangled her hands in his hair, scraping her nails across his scalp, holding him to her. He moaned against her and the vibration made her whole body arch, her own moan following right on the heels of his. He did it again and she felt the tightness taking over her, her body as taut as a bowstring.

He inserted one finger into her and she clenched around him. “Relax, love,” he whispered against her and opened up his mouth to draw that small nubbin of flesh and nerves into it, suckling. Her body melted, relaxed beneath his touch, and a second finger joined the first. He spread the fingers slightly apart, stretching her little by little, pressing the fingers in slowly before withdrawing and pushing forward again. Belle felt her hips move in concert with his fingers, pushing forward as he did, setting up a slow rhythm that drove her near to the edge with its pleasure.

She muttered his name and when he inserted a third finger, she fell apart, sobbing incoherent words as her body convulsed around the fingers still inside her.

He withdrew the fingers and she almost cried out at their absence. But then he drew up over her and kept her legs spread with his knees.

“Wait…” The word came out breathy. He stilled and tried to draw away once more. She stopped him with two hands firmly on his shoulders. “You’re over-dressed.”

She heard him laugh lightly, an unexpectedly deep sound considering the high-pitched giggle she was accustomed to. She helped him off with the shirt and then reached out with both hands to run them across his chest, down the lean muscles of his abdomen. She was surprised at how almost hairless he was. She had always had the impression, from talking to the older married ladies at court, that men were simply covered in hair. _Hairy beasts_ , one woman had called them. Belle had giggled, turning slightly pink at the time. Now she found it odd that the one they _really_ considered a beast wasn’t hairy at all.

Her hand wandered lower, brushing across the light dusting of hair below his navel and finally brushing up against his cock. Allowing herself a little bit of bravery, she reached out and grasped it in her hand, exploring the firm length of it. She heard him hiss and he quickly drew her hand away from him.

“Did I do it wrong?”

He laughed again. “No, love. If you keep that up, we won’t get to the consummation part.”

“Oh?” She didn’t understand for a moment but then… “Oh…”

“It’s been a long time,” he muttered.

Belle leaned up and kissed him lightly on the lips and he deepened the kiss. She realized she could taste herself on him now, her own particular musk mixing with the spice of his magic, a strange heady combination that somehow felt right.

She spread her legs a little in invitation and finally he took himself in hand, bringing the tip of his cock to her entrance. “If it hurts, tell me.” She nodded, even though she was sure he couldn’t see it and wrapped her arms around him. He pressed forward, allowing first just the tip to enter her. It stretched her in places she had never been stretched before, but there was no pain. He had apparently readied her well. He pushed forward slowly, each inch causing a little uncomfortable stretching, something her body was clearly not used to, but no pain. And then finally he stopped, buried deep in her, his groin pressed to hers.

He leaned over her, his arms supporting his weight, keeping him from lying totally on top of her. Belle reached up to hug him, wanting him close, wanting to feel his whole body tight against hers. He was already _inside_ her. She wanted to feel simply _consumed_ by him. And so her arms shot out a bit, the unexpected movement causing him to lose his balanced and to fall somewhat heavily on top of her. She wrapped herself around him, her arms around his back, holding tight. Her legs came up and wrapped around him.

He groaned. And then he was moving within her. Her body moved with him, hips moving of their own accord, finding a rhythm that worked for them both. As he moved, he unwrapped her legs, putting one down on the bed and taking one and placing it high, resting on his shoulder. It enabled him to move deeply within her and the changed angle caused him to hit just the right spot. Belle felt her body begin to tighten again, felt the flutter starting from deep within her. His constant movement, thrusting forward and drawing out again, over and over, steadily, began the push over the edge. When he reached between them and circled her clitoris with his thumb, she broke apart again. Her breathing erratic, she moaned as she lost all control of herself, clinging to him as she rode the orgasm out.

He wasn’t far behind her, his thrusts growing erratic, the rhythm thrown off suddenly as she came. With a groan, he held still within her, emptying himself inside her and finally collapsing on top of her.

At that moment Belle felt a huge weight releasing her from its grasp. She gasped. “Did you feel that?”

“The magic,” he responded with, his voice coming out in a mere whisper. “It’s gone.”

She hugged him. “We did it!”

He pushed her away and rolled off her. She caught him with one hand as he was starting to sit up. “What are you doing?”

“The magic has been given its due and we’re free.” He tried to sit up once more.

“And so that’s it. We shared this and now you’re just going to leave me to sleep alone in a cold bed?” She felt rather irritable, and a little hurt, over that.

“I thought to spare you…”

“Spare me? No…please, come to bed Rumplestiltskin. There is no need to leave.” He was about to speak. “ _I_ don’t want you to leave.”

For a moment he said nothing, but finally gave in and crawled back beneath the covers. He curled up on his side, facing her. Pleased with that, Belle lay on her side, facing away from him and then reached behind her to feel for his arm. When she found it, she pulled it around her waist, tugging lightly. He seemed so pliant at that moment, allowing her to pull him to her and finally wrapping himself back around her with a sigh. Belle found her head on the same pillow his was and felt content, maybe for the first time in a _very_ long time.

“Rumplestiltskin?” She spoke his name quietly.

“Yes Belle?”

“The curse wasn’t the only reason I wanted to do that.” She felt his arm tighten around her and he kissed the back of her head. She was pretty sure she wasn’t imagining the way his lips seemed to move into a smile against the back of her head.

She shut her eyes, sleepy and fulfilled. She’d have to remember to ask him in the morning if it were too soon for a repeat performance.

**Author's Note:**

> This work now has a sequel!
> 
> Check out Fairy Curses and Consequences [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1480294).


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